Labdanum - Red

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    Evil Does Not Sleep Perfume Oil

    Evil in general does not sleep, and therefore doesn’t see why anyone else should. But Crowley liked sleep, it was one of the pleasures of the world. Especially after a heavy meal. He’d slept right through most of the nineteenth century, for example. Not because he needed to, simply because he enjoyed it.

    One of the pleasures of the world. Well, he’d better start really enjoying them now, while there was still time.

    Blackened lavender, red labdanum, sweet hops, and violet leaf.

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  • HANA NO MIYAKOJI

    Hana No Miyakoji Perfume Oil

    White oakmoss, plum silk, tuberose, gilded cedar, blue lotus, and red labdanum.

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    Peach Chypre Perfume Oil

    A twist on a traditional early 20th century sweet chypre with red labdanum, oakmoss, 3-year aged patchouli, Italian bergamot, and peach.

    Peach Chypre debuted at DragonCon this year as a fundraiser response to Governor Kemp’s monstrous and misleadingly-named “Fetal Heartbeat” bill: proceeds from the sale of this scent benefit Planned Parenthood.

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  • Raminou Perfume Oil

    Suzanne Valadon

    A tawny, majestic blend of red velvet musk, golden vanilla, ambrette seed, tonka bean, sweet myrrh, oakmoss, honey, red labdanum, cashmere, patchouli, and saffron threads.

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  • snowy evening

    Snowy Evening Perfume Oil

    Georges Lemmen

    Long shadows of lavender resin and red labdanum.

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  • STYRAX, STRAWBERRIES, AND RED LABDANUM

    Styrax, Strawberries, and Red Labdanum Perfume Oil

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    The Rights of Women Perfume Oil

    Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!
    Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;
    O born to rule in partial Law’s despite,
    Resume thy native empire o’er the breast!

    Go forth arrayed in panoply divine;
    That angel pureness which admits no stain;
    Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign,
    And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign.

    Go, gird thyself with grace; collect thy store
    Of bright artillery glancing from afar;
    Soft melting tones thy thundering cannon’s roar,
    Blushes and fears thy magazine of war.

    Thy rights are empire: urge no meaner claim, –
    Felt, not defined, and if debated, lost;
    Like sacred mysteries, which withheld from fame,
    Shunning discussion, are revered the most.

    Try all that wit and art suggest to bend
    Of thy imperial foe the stubborn knee;
    Make treacherous Man thy subject, not thy friend;
    Thou mayst command, but never canst be free.

    Awe the licentious, and restrain the rude;
    Soften the sullen, clear the cloudy brow:
    Be, more than princes’ gifts, thy favours sued; –
    She hazards all, who will the least allow.

    But hope not, courted idol of mankind,
    On this proud eminence secure to stay;
    Subduing and subdued, thou soon shalt find
    Thy coldness soften, and thy pride give way.

    Then, then, abandon each ambitious thought,
    Conquest or rule thy heart shall feebly move,
    In Nature’s school, by her soft maxims taught,
    That separate rights are lost in mutual love.
    – Anna Lætitia Barbauld

    Too long degraded, scorned, opprest: a bold, strident red chypre with sweet wild patchouli, bourbon vanilla, Tunisian neroli, tuberose, warm red currant, strawberry, and red labdanum.

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